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Image for the poem Ragan

Ragan's Bloody Rain

HOTEL MONTELEONE        
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA          
         
Terrence removed the keycard from his back pants pocket, inserted it into the door handle slot, and lifted it out. He opened the door and pushed it open wider; he stepped aside to permit Ragan’s entrance.                  
Ragan entered Terrence’s hotel room.          
           
Terrence followed and closed the door. He placed the keycard inside his suit jacket side pocket.          
           
“Nadine, would you like something to drink?”          
           
“Yes.”          
           
Terrence walked over to his stocked bar and removed a glass from off a silver circular tray. He lifted a Decanter of Scotch, uncapped it, and set the top on the mini-bar surface. He poured the contents inside the glass and uprooted the Decanter.          
           
Terrence lifted the glass and walked over to where Ragan waited.          
           
“Here you are.”          
           
He handed her the glass.          
           
“Thank you.”          
           
“You’re welcome.”          
           
Terrence stepped back. He loosened his tie, pulled it from around his neck, and threw it on a chaise.          
           
“Would you like to make yourself comfortable?”          
           
“Yes, can I use your bathroom?”          
           
“Yes, it’s down the short hallway, the last door on your left.”          
           
“Thank you.”          
           
Ragan placed her glass of wine on a wooden antique table and turned around. She walked in the direction of the bathroom, she stopped and pivoted. She watched Terrence get undressed.          
           
Ragan walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She looked around the spacious bathroom. She placed her purse on the vanity and assessed her reflection in the mirror; she adjusted the wig on her head. She opened her purse and removed two black hairpins. She concealed the hairpins in her wig.          
           
Ragan stepped out her shoes, and then pushed the gown down her hips, on down her legs. She unhooked her bra from behind, slid it down her arms, and threw it on the vanity. She lifted the gown from off the tile floor and placed it on the vanity.          
           
She slid her panties down her legs, stepped out of them; she bent over and lifted them from off the floor. She placed them on top of her gown and bra. She looked in the mirror and pinched her cheeks. She hopes she does not blow it; she wanted to know how it feels to totally love a man.          
           
Ragan opened the door and walked out the bathroom. She looked around.          
           
The room was semi-dark.          
           
Ragan looked over at Terrence, who was now lying in bed.          
           
“I hope you do not mind my presumption.”          
           
“No, and I hope you do not mind my eagerness.”          
           
Ragan walked over to the bed, pulled the covers down, and slid beneath them. She pulled the covers back up.          
           
“Ragan, if I must say. You are a very beautiful woman.”          
           
Terrence slid the back of his hand down Ragan’s arm. She flinched at the contact.          
           
The bile was starting to churn in the pit of her stomach.          
           
“Are you all right?”          
           
“I’m sorry; it’s been a long time since I’ve participated in a one night stand.”          
           
“Then let’s not waste the moment.”          
           
Terrence leaned up and got on top of Ragan. He positioned his presence between her legs, palmed his dick, and entered the pathway of her pussy.          
           
“Umm Terrence.”          
           
Terrence slowly moved his dick inside of Ragan. He bent his head downward and kissed a breast.          
           
“Ooh, you got some big breasts.”          
           
The slurping sound of him licking over her nipple turned her off.          
           
Terrence palmed Ragan’s breast, and mouthed the tip of her nipple. He lifted his head and kissed her on the chin.          
           
Ragan held her breath and looked at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and tried to relax her body.          
           
“Oh you feel so good Nadine.”          
           
Terrence kissed Ragan’s other breast. He inched his head back and looked down at her.          
           
“Darling, this takes two. You wanna loosen up a little.”          
           
Ragan found Terrence’s eyes.          
           
The image of her adoptive father’s face loomed over her.          
           
“No,” Ragan screamed out. She scratched Terrence across his chest.          
           
Terrence looked down at the thin bloody welts on his chest. He looked Ragan in her eyes, and then confiscated her wrists.          
           
“Oh, you like it the rough way.”          
           
Terrence applied pressure to Ragan’s wrists. He brutally pounded his dick inside of her.          
           
“Get off of me, now!”          
           
Ragan twisted her head and bit Terrence on his wrist.          
           
“You fucking bitch.”          
           
Terrence released one of Ragan’s wrists and slapped her across the face. He withdrew his dick, flipped her over, and pinned her body against the mattress with his chest wall.          
           
“I said get the fuck up!”          
           
Ragan tried to lift her upper body.          
           
Terrence reached down between spaces of their bodies and palmed his dick. He humped his groin back and penetrated her anus.          
           
“Ahhhh.”          
           
Ragan’s body tightened.          
           
“See, that’s the hole I wanted anyway, but no, you forced me to take it.”          
           
Terrence shoved the extent of his stiff dick inside Ragan’s snug anus.          
           
“Please get... I’ll do what...”          
           
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.”          
           
Ragan’s body squirmed. She tried to lift him off of her.          
           
“Get up, you’re fucking hurting me!”          
           
“Shut the...fuck, oh your ass feels so tight.”          
           
“Get off of me,” Ragan cried, her arms darted backwards, scraping his chest with her nails.                
Terrence apprehended Ragan’s arms, and restrained them at her side. He consistently plunged his dick harder and faster inside her rectum.          
           
Tears spilled from Ragan’s eyes. Her body finally submitted to the will of anguish.          
           
“Shit...” Terrence dropped his head back. His ejaculation swiftly entered the constricted passage. “Shit.” He kissed the back of Ragan’s neck and released the grip on her arms. “You’re a worthless bitch, and your appearance is highly overrated.” He kissed the back of her ear and yanked his dick out.          
           
Terrence rolled over and got out the bed.          
           
Ragan muffled her weeping against the mattress.          
           
“Well don’t just lie there, get the fuck up, and be gone when I come out the bathroom.” Terrence walked into the bathroom. “Looking good, but the whore can’t fuck a lick,” he mumbled under his breath. He slammed the bathroom door close.          
           
Ragan slowly turned over onto her back. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands; she sat up and looked around the bedroom. She scooted to the edge of the bed and then stood. She reached downward and yanked the brass lamp from off the nightstand. She walked to the bathroom door and placed her ear up to it.          
           
Ragan gently twisted the doorknob and opened the door. She tiptoed into the bathroom.            
Terrence’s singing in the shower obscured Ragan’s approaching footsteps.          
           
Ragan looked around the bathroom.          
           
Kill Kill.”          
           
She pulled the shower curtain back.          
           
“What the fuck.” Terrence dropped the bar of soap and reached out for Ragan’s throat. “I’ll kill you bitch.”          
           
Ragan raised the lamp and swung it across Terrence’s face.          
           
Terrence fell back against the tile wall; he grabbed onto the shower curtain and tried to reposition himself.          
           
Ragan looked down.          
           
The blood trickling down her legs enraged her.          
           
“You fucking bastard!”          
           
She clobbered him on top of his head.          
           
Terrence slipped and fell against the faucet knobs.          
           
Ragan stepped into the bathtub. She placed her wet foot on Terrence's flaccid dick.          
           
“I told you to get up, you limp dick fuck.” She removed her foot and stooped down on one knee. “But you had to take, what was not given to you.” She held the lamp in one hand and unscrewed the light bulb with the other. She smashed it against the edge of the bathtub rim. “Say goodbye you bastard.”          
           
Ragan lifted the broken light bulb and repeatedly slashed Terrence across his face with it; she alternated bashing his head with the lamp.                 
Kill Kill.”          
           
Ragan dropped the bloody lamp to the linoleum floor. She opened his mouth and pushed the base of the light bulb down Terrence’s throat. She stood and looked down at Terrence’s nude body.          
           
The stream of water flowing from the shower nozzle, funneled his blood down the drain. She stepped out the bathtub, limped over to the toilet, and sat down on it. She slicked her hand back through her wet hair and shivered.          
           
Ragan glanced back over at the bathtub; she placed her face in her bloody palms, and hysterically sobbed.          
         
SENATE OFFICE BUILDING          
WASHINGTON, D.C.          
SENATOR BHINDI'S OFFICE
         
           
“Senator Bhindi, we have a serious problem. The woman who was arrested is…”          
           
“Dammit, I told you never to contact me here.”          
           
“This shit is urgent.”          
           
“Hold the line.”          
           
Senator Bhindi placed the telephone receiver down on his desk and rose from his leather chair; he ran over to the door, and closed it. He walked back to his desk and took a seat. Senator Bhindi lifted the telephone receiver and placed it back up to his ear.          
           
“Everything is secured.”          
           
“Senator, I’m sure you’ve heard about the arrest of the woman known as Rajeen, to us, Ragan. It will be a matter of time before that bitch starts singing like a canary.”          
           
“The tape the bitch made between you and I, is innocent compared to some of the others.”               
“The fucking point is, she still has it in her possession.”          
           
Senator Bhindi leveled the telephone receiver to his chin. He placed it back up to his ear.          
           
“The bitch is never to reach trial.”          
           
“So what are you saying?”          
           
“You figure it out. I refuse to have my name caught up in a scandal. For goodness sake, I’m facing reelection next year.”          
           
“I told you if you wanted a threesome with another man and me, then we should have had the common sense to indulge our privacy outside of America.”          
           
Senator Bhindi sighed.          
           
“Listen you piece of shit. You are my aide, you work for me. I need this shit to go away.”          
           
“No, I am your lover, and second, your aide.”          
           
Senator Bhindi’s telephone extension beeped.          
           
“I have to take this call. Fix this shit.” He slammed the telephone receiver down in his aide’s ear.          
           
Senator Bhindi clicked on his other extension.          
           
“Senator Bhindi… that...”          
           
“I know dammit.”          
           
“You advised me this whore was on the up-and-up. Had I known I paid a professional dominatrix with a sweet tooth to kill. I would have taken my business elsewhere. Dammit! I refuse to have my name, or my political career tarnished.”          
           
“Fay and Austin got too greedy, and did not stick to the plan to contain their business in the state of Louisiana and Mississippi.”          
           
“I paid a large amount of money for that whore services, and I will be damn, if my name comes down to several extra-marital fucks with a killer, and your….”          
           
“Gay lover.”          
           
“Yes, your gay lover in attendance.”          
           
“I will handle everything. I can assure you that you, or my name will never be heard from Rajeen’s mouth.”          
           
“Good, because if I go down, you, and several dicks on Capitol Hill will go down with me.”          
           
Senator Klossterman slammed the telephone receiver down in Senator Bhindi’s ear.          
           
AUGUSTA POINT ESTATE          
BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA          
         
Ragan parked the stolen vehicle on the right side of the road. She turned off the ignition, withdrew the key, and unsnapped her seatbelt. She opened the door and stepped out, she pushed the door close. Ragan walked toward the front end of the vehicle and looked in the far distance. She wondered was Crawford’s step-brother inside. She never did appreciate the fact that Crawford’s step-brother never cared for him.          
           
Ragan walked up the road. She moved several tall bushes aside and descended three concrete steps. She stood on the balls of her feet and reached over the doorpost. She located the key and inserted it inside the lock. She twisted the doorknob.          
           
“Yes.”          
           
Ragan pushed the door open, entered the passage, and pushed the door close.          
           
The cool stale air of the corridor made her cough.          
           
Ragan reached up and felt the wall for the circular embedded button. She pressed it.          
           
The narrow corridor was bathed with a dim light.          
           
Ragan made her way down the winding corridor. She placed the key inside the lock and turned the doorknob; she entered and closed the door back.          
           
“Wow, what a feeling to be back home.”          
           
She crossed her meeting room and opened another door. She clapped her hands.          
           
The lights automatically brightened the room.          
           
Ragan ran over to the podium stand. She did not see her black book. She ran over to her wardrobe armoire and pulled open the three bottom drawers; she delved through the contents inside.          
           
“Dammit, where is it?”          
           
Ragan thought for a minute. She ran over to her trunk and lifted the top. She shifted through the clothes.          
           
“Shit.” Ragan looked at the ceiling. She tiptoed out her sexual torture room, and walked in the direction of her chamber room. She bypassed the shelf that held the VHS tapes. She stopped and backtracked.          
           
Ragan noticed several VHS tapes were missing. She looked around her chamber room. She walked over to the staircase, and then glanced around again. She clapped her hands.          
           
The room instantly went dark.          
           
Ragan ascended the steps and opened the door. She stepped into her closet, and gently closed the door. She looked around.          
           
Why was her makeup neatly placed on her vanity?          
           
She walked through her closet and stopped in front of the mirror. She puckered her lips, and fluffed her hair.          
           
Ragan saw the back of a woman’s silhouette. She saw her donning her white mini-dress; she could not make out her face. She suddenly turned around.          
           
“Hello.”          
           
Ragan turned back around and looked into the mirror. She peered closer. The woman turned around. Ragan jumped and reached out to the mirror. She tried to make out the woman’s foggy facial features.          
           
The woman stepped forward. Her body merged into hers.          
           
Ragan became dizzy; she braced her hands on the dresser to steady herself. She peered closer and shivered. She lifted the brush and brushed her hair; she set the brush aside.          
           
Without thought, she lifted a tube of cherry-red colored lipstick. She took off the cap and filled in the contour of her lips. She recapped the tube of lipstick, and placed it on the vanity. She stood back and admired her reflection.          
           
“No man has ever dressed me, and I will be damn, if any man starts. If you want Ragan and her sexual desires, than Ragan you shall have.”          
           
Ragan immediately stepped back and turned around.          
           
“Is anyone there?”          
           
She looked around her closet. She closed her eyes. She realized the auditory voices in her head were getting unpredictable.          
           
Ragan walked out her closet. She looked around her bedroom and tiptoed to the door. She placed her ear up to the door and listened. She slowly twisted the doorknob and opened the door. She stuck her head out and looked to both sides.          
           
Ragan exited her bedroom and walked down the silent hallway. She opened several bedroom doors, looked inside, and then pulled them close.          
           
Miss. Posey heard a noise. She immediately looked up at the ceiling. She placed the newspaper she was reading down on the table.          
           
“What is that noise?”          
           
She knew Mr. Huntington, or PJ has not returned. Miss. Posey stood and walked out the kitchen. She walked through the foyer and stopped in front of the staircase.          
           
“Is anyone up there?”          
           
“Shit.”          
           
Ragan inched down the hallway. She turned the doorknob and entered Jonathon’s bedroom. She closed the door back and locked it.          
           
Ragan ran to the window and pulled the curtains aside. She lifted the window and looked down.          
           
“Dammit!”          
           
The drop was too far for her to jump.          
           
Miss. Posey walked down the hall. She entered each bedroom and looked around. She walked back into the hallway. She stopped in front of Jonathon’s bedroom and twisted the doorknob.          
           
The door was locked.          
           
Miss. Posey lifted a master key from out the inside pocket of her apron.          
           
Ragan looked around Jonathon’s bedroom for a heavy object. She ran over to the fireplace mantel board, and lifted a pewter clock. She ran over to the door and hid behind it.          
           
Miss. Posey opened the door and entered Jonathon’s bedroom. She walked over to the window.          
           
Ragan pushed the door close.          
           
Miss. Posey turned around.          
           
“Ragan?”          
           
Miss. Posey tapped her two fingers up to her forehead, down to her navel, and then tapped each shoulder.          
           
Mulher má,” she uttered in her native tongue. She ran to the door.          
           
Ragan stormed toward Miss. Posey.          
           
“Come here you meddling bitch, I never did like you anyway.”          
           
Ragan grabbed Miss. Posey around her neck and smashed the clock over her head.          
           
Miss. Posey covered her head.          
           
“Someone help me please.”          
           
Ragan slammed the clock over Miss. Posey’s head again.          
           
Miss. Posey grabbed her head and fell to the floor.          
           
Ragan knelt over Miss. Posey’s body, and repeatedly hammered her in the back of the head with the clock. She looked down at the bloody gash on the back of Miss. Posey’s head. She dropped the clock and looked around Jonathon’s bedroom.          
           
Ragan stood and walked over to Jonathon’s dresser. She pulled open several drawers. She removed a wad of bills tightly snuggled inside a money clip. She placed it inside the bosom of her dress and placed the money clip back inside the drawer. She lifted one of Jonathon’s socks and walked back over to Miss. Posey’s body. She knelt over, lifted the clock, and wiped the blood off. She threw it against the wall.          
           
Ragan let the sock drop to the floor. She looked around Jonathon’s bedroom and walked to the door. She hurried down the two flights of staircases, through the foyer, and entered the kitchen.          
           
Ragan walked to the counter-top, and slid a drawer back; she removed a knife and pushed the drawer close. She walked out the kitchen, over to a telephone stand, and lifted the telephone receiver.          
           
NEW ORLEANS FORENSIC CENTER          
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA          
         
Sterling pulled his rented vehicle in front of the Forensic Center and parked. He turned off the ignition, withdrew the key, and unsnapped his seatbelt; he opened the door and got out. He closed the door back and walked to the entrance of the New Orleans Forensic Center.          
           
Sterling mounted a step and pulled on the door handle. He entered and walked to the Receptionist’s desk.          
           
The receptionist looked up.          
           
“May I help you?”          
           
“Yes, my name is Dr. Ambrose, and I would like to speak to the Coroner on duty.”          
           
“You may have a seat.”          
           
“Thanks.”          
           
Sterling walked to the glass window and looked out.          
           
The receptionist lifted the telephone receiver from out the cradle and dialed Dr. Brooks’ office; she placed the receiver up to her ear.          
           
CORONER OF NEW ORLEANS PARISH          
DR. BROOKS’ OFFICE          
         
“This is Dr. Brooks.”          
           
“Dr. Brooks, I have a Dr. Ambrose out here to speak with you.”          
           
“Sterling Ambrose?”          
           
“I’m sorry sir; I did not ask his first name.”          
           
“I can…”          
           
The reception went silent.          
           
The receptionist looked at the telephone receiver, and then replaced it on the cradle.          
           
Thurgood rose from his seat and walked around the desk. He strolled to the door, opened it, and rushed out to the reception area.          
           
“I guess you came to New Orleans, to rub my nose in your Pulitzer Prize.”          
           
Sterling turned around.          
           
Thurgood crossed the room.          
           
Sterling and Thurgood shook each other’s hand.          
           
Both men stood back.          
           
“Man, what are you doing here in my neck of the woods?”          
           
“I never knew you were in the state of Louisiana.”          
           
“Yeah, you know us East coast brothas need to represent here and there. What brings you down here?”          
           
“Homicide that may have Louisiana connections.”          
           
“Miss. Wesley, can you please hold all my calls, until after lunch.”          
           
“Yes sir.”          
           
“We can talk in my office. Have you seen Dewey?”          
           
“I haven’t seen Dewey since the reunion last year; however, Chop is practicing in Iowa.”          
           
“Doctor.”          
           
“No, Heart Surgeon.”          
           
“I guess us Phi Beta Kappa brothas did not do bad after all.”          
           
“I’m in agreement.”          
           
Thurgood escorted Sterling to his office.          
         
NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT          
         
Sammie walked into the reception area. He slid his Blackberry down.          
           
Jonathon and PJ stood.          
           
Jonathon looked over Sammie’s shoulder.          
           
“Where’s Nadia?”          
           
“Mr. Huntington, she was arrested and charged with the murders of several victims in the city of New Orleans, and she may be facing additional charges in the state of Nevada, and possibly Mississippi.”          
           
“Dammit, she did not do this shit! I don’t care what it cost. I want Nadia, out of jail!”          
           
“She will face arraignment sometime tomorrow. I hope I can get the judge to let her go on her own recognizance. I’ve already made contact with her attorney and advised him his trip will be wasted, and once she has been extradited back to the state of Nevada, he and I can put together a strong legal defense team, which will get Miss. Whitlow acquitted.”          
           
Jonathon palmed his cheeks, and then massaged his neck.          
           
“How is she holding up?”          
           
“The woman seems to be holding her own.”          
           
“Mr. Huntington, Rajeen...”          
           
“It’s Nadia.”          
           
“Nadia advised me that there is someone out there framing her. Any leads on her confession.”          
           
“Yes, someone name Ragan...”          
           
“Ragan..., I know every low down female in the state of Louisiana, and the name doesn’t ring any bells.”          
           
“I have some information that may be useful to you.”          
           
“Lead the way. Oh, she said something that she is not this woman, and she does not have something.”          
           
“Somehow, I knew that the moment my lips touched hers.”          
           
PJ and Sammie looked at Jonathon.          
           
Jonathon walked out the Police Station, followed by Sammie and PJ.          
           
All three men walked to the limousine.          
           
LAS VEGAS TIMES NEWSPAPER          
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
         
           
Manuel sat at his desk. He could not take any more news updates concerning his Investigative Journalist.          
           
“Shit.”          
           
He threw the pencil across the room.          
           
Someone knocked on the door.          
           
“Come in.”          
           
Dale walked into Manuel’s office.          
           
“Mr. Addison, there are some men out here.”          
           
Manuel stood, and ran to the door. He and Dale walked out his office.          
           
Manuel walked over to Nadia’s desk.          
           
“Can I help you gentlemen?”          
           
“This is federal business.”          
           
One FBI Agent removed his identification wallet from out his suit jacket side pocket, and flashed it to Manuel and Dale.          
           
“I understand this is federal business, however, this is my staff and my newspaper, and I would like to know what are you requesting.”          
           
“No need to know. I think we can find out what we’re looking for right here.”          
           
The FBI Agent disconnected Nadia’s computer.          
           
The other FBI Agent lifted the hard-drive and monitor; he placed everything inside a brown box.          
           
“If you’re planning to walk out of here with sensitive equipment, which contains private files, then I would like to see a fucking search warrant.”          
           
One of the FBI Agents removed a piece of paper from out his back pants pocket and handed it to Manuel.          
           
Manuel read over the context of the search warrant. He handed the piece of paper to Dale.          
           
Dale looked at Manuel and nodded his head.          
           
The FBI Agent snatched the piece of paper out Dale’s hand, and returned it to his back pants pocket.          
           
“Is this the only space the suspect has access too?”          
           
“No, you may want to check the bathroom, the cafeteria, oh the outside.”          
           
“If you are holding back any information that would slow the progress of this investigation. I will arrest you for obstruction of justice.”          
           
“Then you will have to arrest all of us,” Dale tossed out.          
           
The two FBI Agents looked at each other.          
           
One of the FBI Agents lifted the box from off Nadia’s desk and moved to the door.          
           
The other FBI Agent followed.          
           
“Arrogant bastards.”          
           
“Totally. Mr. Addison, with your permission. I think someone needs to fly to New Orleans and get a perspective on this story.”          
           
Manuel palmed his chin.          
           
“Yeah, I think this story is going to get worse, and the possibility of it getting any better is slim to none.”          
           
“I have my own aspect on an angle that Nadia was working on. Maybe I should speak with James.”          
           
“James?”          
           
“Yes, the Warden of High Desert State Prison; Nadia spoke with this individual concerning an inmate she thought could shed some light on the mentality of the Las Vegas Slasher.”          
           
“Do what you have to do, just get me a story, whereas, the story does not revolve around my Investigative Journalist.”          
           
“Yes sir.”          
           
Manuel walked back into his office. Dale walked back to his desk.          
           
BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA          
           
Junior pulled the limousine in front of Jonathon’s residence.          
           
“Mr. Huntington, I really need to see the VHS tapes, and any evidence that can refute the allegations against Nadia.”          
           
“Sammie, in the past when you defended my step-brother. Did you come upon any evidence that Nadia was being framed then?”          
           
“At the time, no.”          
           
Junior opened the back door for Jonathon.          
           
Jonathon, followed by Sammie, and then PJ exited the limousine. Junior pushed the door close.          
           
All three men walked to the front door.          
           
Junior walked around the limousine, got behind the steering wheel, and pulled the door close. He pulled off.          
           
PJ unlocked the door and opened it.          
           
Jonathon and Sammie walked in.          
           
PJ entered and pushed the door close.          
           
“Would anyone like a drink?”          
           
“PJ, no drinking. The only priority is getting Nadia free. Can you tell Miss. Posey to prepare a lunch?”          
           
“You got it Mr. Huntington.”          
           
PJ strolled in the direction of the kitchen.          
           
“Mr. Huntington, I will need those VHS tapes you mentioned.”          
           
“Yeah.”          
           
Jonathon walked to the staircase and mounted the steps.          
           
Sammie’s Blackberry vibrated. He dug inside his suit jacket side pocket, and took it out. He slid it up, and placed it up to his ear.          
           
“This is Sammie, talk.”          
           
“This is Chief Hansin from the New Orleans Police Department.”          
           
“I’m listening.”          
           
“I have an official order to extradite your client back to Las Vegas sometime today.”          
           
“The official order was sanctioned by whom?”          
           
“I am looking at the order, and if it helps to say. It has a government official seal on it. I guess that lying bitch will get the electric chair after all.”          
           
“I would like my client to remain there until I have the proper time to look over that official piece of paper.”          
           
“Sorry man. I have direct orders. It looks like you represented the wrong coon.”          
           
Chief Hansin laughed in the telephone receiver and then hung it up.          
           
“Sammie, PJ get up here, now!” Jonathon hollered down the staircase.          
           
PJ ran out the kitchen with his gun drawn. Sammie ran to the staircase, he took the steps two at a time.          
           
PJ followed behind.          
           
“In here.”          
           
PJ and Sammie ran down the hallway to Jonathon’s bedroom. Sammie and PJ stop at the threshold.          
           
PJ covered his mouth.          
           
Sammie bent over and retched.          
           
“Mr. Huntington is she dead.”          
           
“How the fuck should I know.”          
           
Sammie entered Jonathon’s bedroom. He squatted on his knees and felt Miss. Posey’s neck for a pulse. Her pulse was very weak. He looked down at the puddle of blood surrounding her upper body.          
           
PJ crossed the bedroom and lifted the telephone receiver. He dialed 911, and then placed the receiver up to his ear.          
           
“Shit,” Jonathon yelled.          
           
Sammie stood.          
           
“Mr. Huntington, do you know who could have done this?”          
           
“Fuck no, when PJ and I left out this morning. Miss. Posey was conscious, and very much breathing.”          
           
“Can anyone corroborate that?”          
           
“Yes, the two police officers who were at my door this morning.”          
           
“This plot continues to thicken.”          
           
“Meaning?”          
           
“I received a call from Chief Hansin from the New Orleans Police Department.”          
           
“Go on.”          
           
“They will be extraditing Nadia back to Las Vegas sometime today.”          
           
PJ hung up the telephone.          
           
“Mr. Huntington, the police is on the way.”          
           
“Yeah PJ. Now Sammie, how in the fuck can they extradite Nadia back to Las Vegas when she has not gone in front of a judge?”          
           
“Chief Hansin stated the request was government issued. Mr. Huntington, Nadia mentioned something about a black book with valuable information concerning the person who is framing her. The same person, who may be responsible for your housekeeper’s injuries.”          
           
“Shit, oh the tapes follow me. PJ, when the police arrive, contain them to this room.”          
           
“Yes sir.”          
           
Sammie and Jonathon walked to the door. Sammie turned around.          
           
“PJ, make absolutely sure you do not touch anything.          
           
The police will most likely comb for fingerprints.”          
           
PJ stepped away from the telephone on the nightstand. He looked around Jonathon’s bedroom.          
           
“I’ll wait in the hall until the paramedics arrive.”          
           
PJ, Sammie, and Jonathon walked out the bedroom.          
           
NEW ORLEANS FORENSIC CENTER          
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA          
         
 “Sterling, we have been over every angle concerning the New Orleans murders. The evidence states the same woman, who is accused of the Las Vegas murders is indeed the same person who committed the murders in New Orleans. The same motive, men of distinguish are prime targets, and always, no fingerprints, or DNA evidence is left behind, until now.”          
           
“Thurgood, the woman who was arrested for these crimes, could not be the same woman, it just can’t be. I, for one would have detected some kind of deviant behavior, when we were fucking.”          
           
“Sterling, you’re thinking with your dick, therefore, you do not see any objectives.”          
           
Thurgood lifted a photograph of Nadia and Ragan. He held the two photographs side-by-side and studied them.          
           
“The same eyes, skin pigmentation, hair, DNA, I hate to say it, but these two women are the same woman. I’m sorry man.”          
           
Thurgood placed the photographs back down on his desk.          
           
Sterling leaned back in his chair.          
           
“I give up.”          
           
“I know it’s hard to watch this ordeal develop. Maybe the judge will be lenient on her.”          
           
“Thurgood, the woman will stand trial for ten murders.”          
           
“Yeah, the murders of eight Congressional Representatives. No doubt a grand jury will cry for the lethal injection.”          
           
“Let’s go and get some lunch, come back here, and hopefully we can find some kind of evidence, which would clear your friend.”          
           
Sterling stood and stretched.          
           
Thurgood stood. He walked around his desk.          
           
“The last I heard, you were trying to get under a detective’s skirt, what happened?”          
           
“I was not feeling the pussy past her thong.”          
           
“Man you don’t fuck the thong, you fuck the pussy.”          
           
“Then I guess it was bad timing on my part.”          
           
“I find it totally strange you had an intimate relationship, with a possible murderer.”          
           
“Isn’t life a mothafucka?”          
           
“Indeed it is my friend, indeed it is.”          
           
Sterling and Thurgood walked out the office.          
           
NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT          
           
“Chief Hansin, you have a minute? I think you need to see something.”          
           
Chief Hansin sat back in his chair.          
           
“Yeah, come in and close the door.”          
           
One of his police officers entered Chief Hansin’s office, and closed the door.          
           
“What is it?”          
           
“Chief White sent a word that he had to send some of his police officers over to Mr. Huntington’s residence.”          
           
“Mr. Huntington’s residence.”          
           
“Yes sir. Apparently, someone broke in his residence and attacked his housekeeper.”          
           
“What is the status of the victim?”          
           
“She is in emergency surgery. I know Baton Rouge is out of our jurisdiction, however, Lieutenant Polk is at the hospital waiting for her to give a statement.”          
           
“How in the hell can she give a statement when she’s in surgery.”          
           
“Maybe she will make a full recovery.”          
           
“In the meantime. Have we received the time as to when Miss. Whitlow will be extradited?”          
           
“No sir, and we may have a dilemma.”          
           
“Dilemma?”          
           
“Yes, after some initial digging in Miss. Whitlow’s criminal background. Some of her prior records are sealed.”          
           
“Dammit, get to the point.”          
           
“Chief Hansin, the fingerprints in the crime database on Miss. Whitlow is flagged, and according to the database, she was arrested as a minor.”          
           
“What were the charges?”          
           
“First degree murder of her adoptive mother. In addition, guess who her late father was.”          
           
“Well who dammit!”          
           
“Senator Matthias Hemmingway.”          
           
Chief Hansin sat up.          
           
“Are you sure?”          
           
“Yes.”          
           
“Did she spend any time in juvenile detention?”          
           
“This is where the case gets strange. The report states she was committed to a mental institution until the age of eighteen, after that, nothing.”          
           
“That would explain her hunger to kill. This should be an open and shut case.”          
           
“There’s more.”          
           
“Will you quit with the babbling, and get on with it.”          
           
“It seems the fingerprints on Nadia..., Miss. Rajeen Whitlow, are coming up under the name, Ragan Hemmingway. Chief Hansin, what the fuck is going on?”          
           
“I have no idea. Recheck the fingerprints against a national fingerprint database.”          
           
“I’ll give it a try.”          
           
“Officer Brunner, I need for you to do me a favor.”          
           
“What is it sir?”          
           
“I need for you to research a past case involving Miss. Rajeen Nadia Whitlow.”          
           
“What was the charge?”          
           
“I believe it was stalking.”          
           
“Was Miss. Whitlow the stalker?”          
           
“That’s what I need you to find out.”          
           
“I’ll see what I can find out Chief Hansin.”          
           
Officer Brunner walked to the door, and exited Chief Hansin’s office.          
           
GUMBO SHOP          
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
         
           
“Since you reside in Nevada, I’m curious about something.”          
           
“What is it?”          
           
Sterling took a seat at the table.          
           
Thurgood sat across from Sterling.          
           
“Have you visited the Bunny Ranch?”          
           
“Who hasn’t?”          
           
A server walked up to the table.          
           
“Can I get you gentlemen something to drink, before your meal?”          
           
Thurgood looked at Sterling.          
           
“I’m still on duty. You can bring me a coke.”          
           
“You can bring me just a glass of water.”          
           
“Would either of you like something to order now? We are best known here for our famous Gumbo.”          
           
“I’m convinced, I’ll take a bowl.”          
           
“And you sir.”          
           
“Why not.”          
           
“Coming right up.”          
           
The server walked away from the table.          
           
The taxicab driver pulled in front of the Gumbo Shop. He pushed in the fare meter.          
           
“Ma’am that would be four-hundred and thirty dollars.”          
           
Ragan opened her purse and took out a five hundred dollar bill.          
           
“Here you are, and keep the change.”          
           
The taxicab driver looked down, and then looked back at Ragan.          
           
“Thank you ma’am.”          
           
Ragan closed her purse, adjusted the pair of Neiman Marcus sunglasses over her nose, and then opened the door. She stepped out the taxicab and pushed the door close. She walked to the entrance of the Gumbo Shop.          
           
HIGH DESERT STATE PRISON          
INDIAN SPRINGS, NEVADA
         
           
James read the newspaper. He refused to believe he escorted a serial killer to his office, made love to her, and attempted to date her. He looked over at the couch.          
           
“A fucking serial killer.”          
           
The woman lifted her head and met James’ eyes.          
           
“I’m sorry, what was that?”          
           
“It’s business that does not concern you.”          
           
James pushed the woman’s head back down.          
           
The woman reinserted James’ dick inside her mouth, and teased the length with her tongue.          
           
His telephone rang.          
           
“Hold up.”          
           
The woman lifted her head from James’ crotch.          
           
“Does this mean I can visit my boyfriend again?”          
           
“We’ll see.”          
           
He pushed her head back down.          
           
The telephone rang again.          
           
James pushed the newspaper aside and lifted the telephone receiver from out the cradle; he placed it up to his ear.          
           
“This is Warden James.”          
           
“Warden James, there are two men down here from the FBI. They would like to speak to you in regards to a Rajeen Whitlow. You know, the killer broad.”          
           
“You may escort them to my office.” James hung up the telephone. “Get up and get dressed. I need you to wait in my bathroom, and keep fucking quiet.”          
           
The woman lifted her clothes up from off the floor, and stood. She held them against her body and ran to the bathroom.          
           
James looked back down at the newspaper.          
           
The photograph of Nadia in handcuffs being led inside a Police Station disturbed him.          
           
“Fucking killer bitch,” James mumbled.          
           
He was still pissed from this morning, after two of his correctional officers laughed at him for letting a serial killer pull the wool over his eyes.          
           
Someone knocked on the door.          
           
James stood, zipped up his pants, and walked around his desk. He crossed the room and opened the door.          
           
Two men blocked the doorway entrance.          
           
“Can I help you?”          
           
“Are you the Warden?”          
           
“I think the title on the door speaks for itself.”          
           
“Warden, is it possible we could speak to you in regards to a recent visitor?”          
           
James looked down at his watch.          
           
“I have a minute, and not longer than that.”          
           
James turned and walked back over to his desk.          
           
The two FBI Agents entered his office.          
           
One of the FBI Agents closed the door.          
           
James took a seat at his desk.          
           
“You two may have a seat.”          
           
One FBI Agent sat; the other FBI Agent remained standing.          
           
“Warden, are you familiar with a Rajeen Nadia Whitlow?”          
           
“I believe the name sounds familiar.”          
           
“I believe she was a recent visitor here.”          
           
“And how did you come about this information?”          
           
“The FBI has confiscated her computer, meaning, we know where she has been, who she has communicated with, and why. The question was, are you familiar with a Rajeen Nadia Whitlow?”          
           
“She was recently here to inquire about an inmate. I could not assist her with her request, so she left.”          
           
One of the FBI Agents pulled out a note pad and an ink pen.          
           
“Warden, why was Miss Whitlow interested in visiting inmate Azele, a well-known notorious criminal.”          
           
“She was here to interview him in regards to a story she was working on.”          
           
“Was that her first visit?”          
           
“Yes, and since she has been apprehended by the authorities, I’m sure her last.”          
           
Both FBI Agents looked at one another.          
           
“Excuse us for taking up your time.”          
           
“No time wasted.”          
           
The FBI Agent that sat, stood.          
           
“Warden, if Rajeen contact you, you are to call the FBI.”          
           
“Why would she contact me?”          
           
“Who knows, just in case she does, please call.”          
           
“If I have to I will.”          
           
James stood.          
           
One of the FBI Agents dug inside his suit jacket breast pocket and took out a card. He leaned over the desk and handed it to James.          
           
James took the card and read it.          
           
“Have a nice day Warden.”          
           
James looked up.          
           
“I’ll try.”          
           
Both FBI Agents walked to the door. One FBI Agent opened the door.          
           
Both walked out.          
           
One of the FBI Agents pulled the door close.          
           
“You can come out now Veronica,” James hollered out.          
           
Veronica walked out the bathroom.          
           
“James, you advised me once I slept with you, that you would grant me full access to see my boyfriend.”          
           
“You speak once you’ve been addressed. Now come here.”          
           
Veronica walked over to James.          
           
James walked from around his desk. He pulled Veronica into his arms; he kissed her on the side of her neck while backing up to his desk. He turned her around and bent her over his desk. He pulled her skirt up, and ripped her panties from off her buttocks.          
           
James unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick, and palmed it. Without delay, he pulled Veronica by her hips and punctured her pussy walls.          
           
“Shit.” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her buttocks into his groin. “You want me to let...”          
           
James banged Veronica’s pussy harder.          
           
“Oh James.”          
           
Veronica placed her palms on James’ desk and pushed her buttocks backwards.          
           
James grabbed a fistful of Veronica’s hair.          
           
“Never... never...” James sank his dick deeper. He flopped his head backwards. “Uuh,” he grunted. He placed Veronica’s leg on his desk and withdrew his dick. “Turn around.”          
           
Veronica turned around and sat on James’ desk.          
           
James lifted Veronica’s skirt and grabbed under her knees. He pulled her body downward and spaced her legs. His dick tapped the opening of her pussy; he cupped his stiff flesh and pierced it back inside the wet vessel.          
           
Veronica laid back.          
           
James dropped his head downward and licked over one of Veronica’s nipples. He ripped her blouse open, lifted her bra, and suckled the other nipple.          
           
“James you’re gonna make me cum.”          
           
“Then cum dammit.”          
           
Veronica wrapped her arms around James’ neck. She kissed him on the lips.          
           
“I told you, not on my fucking mouth.”          
           
“I’m sorry.”          
           
Veronica kissed James on the side of his neck.          
           
James lifted Veronica’s hands over her head. He licked one breast and then kissed around the other.          
           
“Oh James... I’m.”          
           
Veronica arched her back. Her cum oozed down James’ dick.          
           
“Ooh, you a good fucking bitch.”          
           
James squeezed Veronica’s buttocks and ejaculated. He lowered his head and locked a nipple inside his mouth. His ejaculation continued to flow.          
           
Veronica linked her legs around James’ back.          
           
James decreased the movement of his lower body; he kissed Veronica’s coffee-skin toned cheek.          
           
“Sh…, shit.”          
           
He laid his upper body on hers.          
           
“Ja... James.” Deep breathing delayed the rest of Veronica’s speech. “Now…, baby… now can I visit my boyfriend?”          
           
“We’ll see. I promise to let you know the next time.”          
           
“Come on James, please. I have not been able to visit him for over a month.”          
           
“That’s because his trifling ass is in the can.”          
           
“Excuse me, can.”          
           
“Solitary confinement.”          
           
“Until when?”          
           
“That depends on your cooperation.”          
           
“I’ve cooperated, and all you do is issue me excuses. I want to see my boyfriend, and I mean my next visit.”          
           
“Is that a threat I hear in your voice?”          
           
Veronica pushed James off her.          
           
“You can go to hell; I’m tired of this game with you.”          
           
Veronica sat up, pulled down her bra, and then buttoned the only button that remained on her blouse. She bent over, and lifted her ripped pair of panties from off the floor.          
           
James placed his dick back inside his pants, and zipped up his zipper.          
           
“You can leave now. When and if you decide your boyfriend’s presence is worth this. Then I’ll see you next week.”          
           
“You can go to hell.”          
           
Veronica walked to the door.          
           
“Oh, if anyone comes to find out about my association with you, I swear I’ll fucking kill you. No one crosses me, and live to tell about it. Have a nice day Veronica.”          
           
Veronica opened the door and walked out James’ office.          
           
James walked around his desk and took a seat. He looked down at the newspaper and then looked around his office.          
           
“Nadia, I do not bring every woman up here and make love to her, as I did to you?”          
           
James closed his eyes to the memory of his words. If only he could turn back the hands of time between the two, he would.          
           
Killer or not, the woman had good looks, an unforgettable body, and some damn good ass pussy he thought.          
           
NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT          
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
         
           
Nadia sat in a holding cell. She looked down at her orange county dress, compliments of the Police Department.          
           
“This shit is ridiculous.”          
           
“I could not agree with you more.”          
           
Nadia looked up and stood.          
           
“Open the door.”          
           
Nadia watched the police officer remove a set of keys from off his duty belt. He inserted a key inside the lock and turned it.          
           
“Step back Miss. Whitlow.”          
           
Nadia stepped back.          
           
“I need for you to raise your hands over your head.”          
           
Nadia raised her hands above her head.          
           
The police officer walked up to Nadia and removed a pair of handcuffs from off his duty belt.    
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published | Edited 18th Jun 2020
Author's Note
A Chapter From One Of My Published Novel. I will be bringing Ragan's Chapters to the forefront .. "This is a very long chapter"

SKC
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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